FROM my desk at the Pilton Equalities Project I have a clear, uninterrupted view of the Granton gas tower. From this distance, it's stately, elegant appearance belies its messy industrial past.
At the time of their construction, WR Herring's ta
ll gas holders were described as "steel frames of extraordinary delicacy" – the architect plainly determined to create a thing of beauty to disguise the mess and muck of their industrial usage.
News that the last tower is on borrowed time has provoked a mixed reaction.
"So what?" was the reaction of many Evening News bloggers. "It's an eyesore, of no use to anyone," were some of the more repeatable comments.
Mostly, though, people point to the cost of retaining it and argue it isn't worthwhile. I beg to differ.
Granton's waterfront, like Leith's, is set for complete transformation. Eventually it will be the home for important national collections, seats of learning, hotels, and homes for the third millennium.
Most of all, it will be clean, green and environmentally sound. It hasn't always been like that.
In 1902, when the gasworks was officially opened, Granton was a place for graft, grime and gritty living. Granton Gas Works provided the muscle, energy and power to keep Edinburgh going.
If National Grid gets its way, the last remaining iconic symbol of Edinburgh's industrial heritage will go, and with it, the last visual reminder of an extraordinarily important piece of Edinburgh history.
Edinburgh's history is about more than Castle, palace, cathedral and parliament. It is just as much the history of ordinary working people who sweated and got dirty.
National Grid estimates it will cost £5 million to put the framework right. I believe it is a small price to pay. Other cities, such as Dublin, understanding their industrial heritage, have protected their gas towers. So what's stopping Edinburgh? Once it's gone, it's really gone.
•
Elizabeth Maginnis is councillor for Edinburgh's Forth Ward